


A Matter of Logistics

by Argent_Vulpine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: After Fort Merceus, Claudeleth, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spooning, Verdant Wind route, there was only one tent, what's a beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argent_Vulpine/pseuds/Argent_Vulpine
Summary: After the javelins of light fall on Fort Merceus, Byleth and company realize that their supply train had been a little too close, and now they're short on some very important things.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 121





	A Matter of Logistics

**Author's Note:**

> IDK man, I love the "there was only one bed" trope and my brain was all "okay but... what if... there was only one TENT" so here we are.

War required a lot of preparation. There were supplies to consider, tactics and strategies to go over, routes to plot. The logistics of it would have been overwhelming if Byleth didn’t have her students to help her. They were brilliant, every one of them, in their own unique ways. She pored over lists of supply requests, eliminating things that were deemed unnecessary and finding ways in which to make it all somehow work.

And for the first months of the long war, everything went quite smoothly.

It wasn’t until Fort Merceus that things went awry. Some of their supply wagons had been far too close to the fort, and while they’d gotten the horses and soldiers out in time, the wagons had been utterly demolished in the wake of the javelins of light.

Unfortunately, half of their tents went with the wagons.

This meant a great reshuffling of personnel. Some of the rank and file gave up their tents for their immediate leaders: the sergeants and officers who gave them their individual commands. Those soldiers were fine with sleeping on their bedrolls beneath the stars, and many were adept at making simple lean-tos which they would huddle under on the rainy nights.

The problems really arose when it came to herself and her (former) students. Byleth sat at a makeshift table – little more than a tree stump – with a candle, some parchment, and her quill and ink, and tried to wrap her head around new assignments.

She could settle Hilda and Lysithea together; the pair seemed to get along fairly well now. Seteth and Flayn, of course, took a single tent and retired for the evening. Ignatz and Raphael had elected to share, being that they were childhood friends, which freed up a tent for Marianne, who really needed her own space. Lorenz grudgingly accepted sharing his larger tent with Sylvain, though neither were excited about the prospect.

Leonie did not need one, she claimed, and Byleth believed her, letting her find her own place to settle in for the night.

Leaves rustled around her, and Byleth placed a hand on her dagger as she looked up and around, relaxing only when she saw Claude stepping through the brush, his signature grin on his face. “Come on, Teach, what’s with the long face?” he asked, plopping himself beside her and slipping the parchment off the stump. “Ah, figuring out how to arrange the remaining tents to appease the nobles?”

She gave a soft sigh, plucking it from his grasp. “Yes. I have it mostly worked out. We’ll need new tents, of course, as soon as we can.” Her lips pursed slightly, the movement so subtle it might have been missed if Claude hadn’t learned how to read her.

“So what’s the problem then?”

“There’s only one tent left.” Byleth glanced at him, her features set into her typical mask. “It has to be yours, of course.”

“It should go to you,” he said in the same moment.

Her brows furrowed slightly. “You’re the duke. The leader of the army. It rightfully goes to you.”

“You forget, my friend, that you are the Archbishop. Seteth would have my head if I let you sleep out on the ground.” A pause. “I’m certain he’s not the only one.”

Byleth winced slightly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “You can’t sleep out on the ground, either, Claude. So if you can’t, and I can’t, and there’s only one tent…” Her voice trailed off, coming to the conclusion he must have already reached, judging from the look on his face.

“So we share,” he said with a light-hearted shrug. “What, Teach, you don’t trust me to be gentlemanly?” That little smirk was back, the one that made her stomach flutter. If her heart beat, she was certain it would have been drumming rapidly against her ribs.

She gave him a little shove, trying to ignore the way her cheeks warmed. They were in the middle of a war. Her feelings for him aside, now was certainly not the time… and that even assuming he felt the same way. “I trust you in all things, Claude,” was her soft reply. “I am just concerned that it would be viewed… improperly.”

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, holding his hands out for her. She hesitated, and then allowed him to help her up. Her hands fit into his so nicely, and even though he wore gloves, she could feel the warmth radiating from his palms. He pulled her to him, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’m not letting you sleep out here alone, By.”

She shivered at the sensation of his breath on her ear, glad suddenly for the dark so he couldn’t see the faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Claude released her to gather up her things, snuffing out the candle. “I know you grew up as a mercenary, but you’re the Archbishop now that Rhea is gone, and the Archbishop simply cannot sleep out in the elements no matter how much you might try to argue. My tent is big enough for us both, and that’s that.”

Byleth huffed out a laugh, admitting defeat. They’d be out here all night if she didn’t, and they had a long trek ahead of them. She found the others as they entered the main encampment, confirming details with them of their new - and hopefully temporary - sleeping arrangements.

Claude’s tent was one of the largest on the field, but with the pair of them and all their gear, including the Sword of the Creator and his own Failnaught, there was little in the way of sleeping space. She surveyed what was available with a keen eye. “The center is the best place for us to sleep,” she finally said, keeping her voice steady. Their bedrolls would be damn near on top of each other, but it made the most sense. Gear at the edges in case of rain or chill, and sleeping beside each other would… would help with any issues with warmth. She knew that much from having been on the road so much with her father.

He nodded his agreement and began shifting things around, tucking packs and weapons into wherever they would fit while Byleth laid out her bedroll, making sure to leave ample space for him to place his own. And then, of course, came the awkwardness of dressing down for the evening. Bits of armor came off and joined their respective piles; Claude’s arm brushed against her back when he removed his coat. Their boots settled together beside the tent flap, looking oddly at home next to each other. That particular thought was pushed away, into the back of her mind.

Claude turned slightly, catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. “Well, Teach, I think I’m ready to call it a night, aren’t you?”

“… yes. We have a long day of ahead of us.” She shuffled around until she was cocooned in her bedroll, her back to him. “Goodnight, Claude.”

He flopped back onto his own bedding with a slight grin. “Yeah, goodnight… Byleth.”

At some point in the night, a chill settled in. Byleth’s shivering stirred her tent-mate, who drowsily rolled onto his side and pulled her against him, one arm settling comfortably across her middle. Byleth sank into a deeper sleep as the warmth surrounded her, a content sigh passing her lips.

She was the first to wake the next morning, the cobwebs of sleep clouding her mind for a long moment until she realized the position she was in… and that Claude was pressed against her, holding her to him almost possessively. When she tried to extricate herself, his arm tightened, and he nuzzled into her hair, a soft, happy hum in his throat.

Well… five more minutes couldn’t hurt, right?

She relaxed into his embrace, her cheeks warm and stomach doing that odd fluttering again. The man was… impossible. Mischievous, sneaky. A schemer in so many ways, but kind and compassionate, too. Perhaps that was why she’d fallen for him, why his face was the first she’d wanted to see when she’d awoken from her long slumber, and was the first she searched for on the field after a battle, to make sure he was alive and unhurt. Feelings she couldn’t have allowed herself when he was still her student had surfaced and grown during the months since she’d returned. And sometimes she thought she caught him looking at her, too, in a way that made her skin tingle. Did he… think about her the way she did him?

“You’ve got your thinking face on, By,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear.

His voice jolted her back to reality, making her jump and earning a chuckle from the focus of her thoughts. “How, uh… how long have you been awake?” Her voice came out a little more strained than she would have liked, but maybe she could blame it on nerves. Or sleep.

“Only a couple minutes,” he murmured, sounding half-asleep still. “You’re a lot softer than you look, did you know that?”

“I… what?”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. She could feel it, pressed up against her as he was. And… it wasn’t the only thing she could feel. Her face reddened. “Surely you don’t need me to repeat myself?” She could almost hear his smirk.

She could pull away. She knew she could force her way out of his arms… but did she want to? It seemed as though he had no intentions of releasing her, and that gave her pause.

“There it is again. And just what are you thinking so hard about, huh Teach?” he asked, the old nickname said with fondness. An endearment; she could hear it now.

Instead of trying to leave his grasp, she managed to turn until she was facing him, pleased to see a flush had crept across his cheeks, staining them pink. It served him right. “You,” she said simply, her features carefully blank.

His eyes widened, just slightly. “Is that so…” Claude smiled - really smiled - as he searched her face, his gaze dipping down to her lips. When her breath hitched and her own gaze dropped, he moved his hand from her waist, carefully placing it on her chin and tilting her face up to him. He moved slowly, giving her time to back away, to signal a no, and when she did neither, he claimed her lips in a gentle kiss.

A jolt went through her at the contact, her eyes fluttering closed even as she returned the kiss, fingers reaching up to thread into his hair. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss, slanting his lips against hers and sliding his hand to the back of her head.

He might have tried to go further, to explore deeper, but the bugle call signaling the start of the day startled them apart.

“We… we should get ready to move out,” was what Byleth finally settled on, her cheeks flaming as she pulled away from him.

He grinned, leaning in to steal another kiss before parting with a theatric sigh. “I suppose you’re right. We do have a long march ahead of us.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked her over. “We can revisit this later tonight.”

Byleth couldn’t help but hear it as a promise.


End file.
